


Mac and Dennis Do a Fake-Dating Scheme

by ryry_peaches



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Roommates, dennis is a bastard man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 09:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16302299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryry_peaches/pseuds/ryry_peaches
Summary: Dennis convinces Mac to fake date him for a scheme with a potentially big payout.  The rest of the gang is suspicious of Dennis' intentions.





	Mac and Dennis Do a Fake-Dating Scheme

**9:00 pm**

**on a Thursday**

**Philadelphia, PA**

“Hey, Mac,” Dennis says as casually as he can, “I have a proposition for you.”

They’re sitting on the couch, watching the made-for-TV prequel to _Thundergun,_ with a huge bowl of zebra popcorn between them. Mac keeps skimming his hand across the top before he picks up a piece; Dennis is keeping quiet, pretending that it doesn’t bother him that Mac is spreading his germs everywhere.

Dennis is many things: vain, cold, and short-tempered among the worst of them, but he’s not stupid or unobservant. Mac took his leaving hard, as a personal betrayal. Dennis is back now, back in Philly, back in Paddy’s, back in their remodelled two-bedroom with all the replicated knick-knacks on the living room shelves, but just showing back up hasn’t healed the months of empty voicemails and read receipts.

Mac has been colder to Dennis than before, and it’s unnerving as hell, to be frank, because Mac doesn’t _do_ cold. Mac is sunshiny and affectionate; his temper runs hot and quick, like a match burning out.

So Dennis has been treading lightly. Offering to do beer runs. Holding back his comments when he comes into the room and Mac is watching _Baywatch_ reruns. (Which he never did, before Dennis moved away.)

“What?” Mac glances at him for the briefest second. “A scheme?”

“Yeah, and one I need you for.”

“I’ve got kinda a full schedule, can’t you ask Charlie or Frank?”

“No, no. It’s…” Dennis pauses, watches Mac chew a single piece of popcorn with his mouth open as he thinks of the right word. “Delicate.”

“Let’s hear it.” Mac leans his head back against the couch and rolls it to the side. His eyes are dark and intent on Dennis.

“Right, so there’s this research clinic downtown that’s running a study with two thousand dollar compensations.” He pauses. “You have to enter in pairs.”

“And why can’t you use Charlie? Or better yet, Sweet Dee! Doctors love twins, man, you’d definitely get in.” Mac bites his bottom lip lightly.

 _Doctors love twins?_ Whatever. Dennis shakes it off. “Well, that’s the thing…the study is for same-sex couples.”

Mac’s big dark eyes go almost blank, his face smoothing out for a moment as he considers that. His lip breaks free, his mouth hanging open just enough that Dennis can see his front teeth. “And you need me because…?”

“For authenticity, of course.”

“Of course.” Mac shakes his head and turns back to the TV. “Ask Charlie.”

“Come on, Mac, don’t you —”

“No, Den. I’m not your token gay guy. I’m sick of you using me.” His gentle tone softens the words.

 _Using?_ Dennis desperately wants to throw the word back at him: _who made a sex doll of whom?_ But that would be counterproductive, so he swallows the icy feeling crawling up his throat and says, “I’m not tokenizing you, pal, I swear. You’re a better actor than Charlie is all. You’d make a more believable boyfriend. We’d look great together. People’d eat it up.”

Mac stills with his hand in the popcorn bowl. “You think we’d look good together?” Dennis watches his jaw work in profile.

“Of course, dude. You’ve gotten so damn jacked; everyone would look at us and immediately think, ‘that huge, ripped guy must top the hell out of the lithe golden one.’” No way in hell does Dennis think Mac is a top, but he couldn’t possibly more obviously want people to think he is. It makes perfect sense to Dennis; he’s played with toppy girls before, and it’s been totally fun and just maybe given him some killer orgasms, but he would never admit that. Dennis Reynolds, the golden god, is always in control: control of his family, his friends, his business, and his partners.

Maybe it’s not completely true, but truth has nothing on image. Even Mac knows that.

And ego-stroking is the most powerful tool in any manipulator’s arsenal; true, some people require a subtler touch than ever-predictable Mac, but there’s no one in the world who can’t be taken down with some persistent sucking up.

“I’d be the top?” Mac’s ear actually _twitches._ Like he never invented a fantasy wherein Dennis was his fucking gimp. Like his desire to top Dennis isn’t well-documented. (Literally, documented in Mac’s file.)

“Of course you would. You think people would believe a skinny little thing like me could top _you?_ You’re like the biggest guy in South Philly.” He chuckles briefly. “I want people to buy this, Mac. Can’t you pretend, just for a few weeks? For two grand?”

“I gotta sleep on it.” Mac presses his lips together and turns his attention fully to the film.

That’s okay. Dennis knows when he’s won, and he’s pretty fucking sure he won this one.

  


There’s sunlight streaming through the window already when Mac wakes up; he rolls over, and Dennis is standing at the side of his bed.

“Dude!” Mac pulls the duvet up to his shoulders. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Have you made a decision yet?”

“What?”

Dennis bites his lower lip and then rips it from between his teeth. It’s a vicious habit, his frustrated tell, and the reason there’s chapstick hidden in every room of the apartment. “The study! Do you wanna be my boyfriend?”

 _God, yes,_ Mac thinks, his thoughts as rumpled as his sheets. And then, coming to his senses: “You want me to be your fake boyfriend. For two thousand dollars.” He rolls his neck, wincing as it pops. “How much time and energy would this take from me, exactly?”

“Not a whole ton. Consider it a day job — it’s three hours a day, four days a week. You go down to the clinic, fill out papers, talk to the psychologists or whatever, and at the end of two weeks, they give you one ‘K’ each.”

 _That sounds sus’ as fuck._ “What kind of study even _is_ this?”

“The kind that pays.” Dennis raises his eyebrows, gives Mac his wheedling eyes. His hair is combed back, and Mac can see the thin, parallel grooves in his forehead. “Come on, Mac. It’ll be fun.”

 _“If_ we even qualify.” He’s not sure why he feels the need to push back against Dennis, to grate against him, but it feels good, satisfies something feral in the back of his mind.

“Course we’ll qualify, pair of good looking guys like us.” Dennis adds a little smile to the eyes.

“Ungh,” Mac says, flopping back over and burying his face in the pillow. Blocking out the light and Dennis’ earnest face. “Fine,” he muffles into the pillow. “God damn it, I’ll do it. Get out of my room, now.”

“God, thanks, Mac. This is gonna be great.” There’s a light pressure on Mac’s shoulder; he tenses automatically, and then forces himself to relax as Dennis runs gentle fingertips across his back. “You’re not gonna regret it, pal. Promise.”

Mac waits until the fingers disappear, the feeling of eyes on him follows, and the door clicks shut. Then he rolls back over, flopping his blankets down to his waist, and stares at the dull contractor-beige of the ceiling. _Fuck._ He’s gonna regret this, he just knows it.

  


“So you just…pretend to date? I don't like the sound of that, man,” Charlie says, looking up from where he's kneeling to glare at Mac. He's got a pile of long, thin nails, and he's busy pinning baseboard molding to the far wall of Paddy’s.

Mac pushes the jukebox further back and slumps against it with a huff. “I don't know…it's easy money, right? One grand for twenty-four work hours?”

“Yeah, but this is…I mean, you've been in love with Dennis for how long now?”

“You —” Mac casts a quick glance around the bar, but no one else is there at noon on a Friday. “Shut up, I'm not _in love with him._ He's my best friend. That's what makes it weird.”

“Uh-huh.” Charlie _tap-tap-taps_ his hammer. “You're my best friend, and I've never custom made a sex doll of you.”

“Dude!” Mac crosses his arms and huffs again, but he doesn't exactly have an argument — doesn't have an explanation for the doll, or why he was so eager to show it off. Or what he did with it, alone in his room…But it wasn't anything about being in love, he knows that much. He just missed Dennis.

“Whatever, Mac. You're gonna do what you want, and ultimately that's whatever Dennis wants from you. I just hope you're ready to pay for it. This isn't gonna end well for you, I can tell you that much.”

“What isn't gonna end well for you?” Dee emerges from the back office, adjusting her tank top.

“Wh — how long have you been in there?” Mac sputters.

Dee shrugs, tying the drawstring on her cotton shorts. “I slept there last night. What is Charlie talking about?”

Mac looks at Charlie, who shrugs helplessly — Dee is a shitshow of a woman _(sleeping — alone — at the bar?),_ but she’s stubborn as hell, and she’s not gonna let go of this. He sighs, long and low.

“Your brother asked me to be his fake boyfriend.”

Dee laughs, a short, shocked, high sound that really does sound like a bird call. “Well, you didn’t say yes, did you?”

“Yeah, I did.” He frowns hard at the sympathetic look she gives him. “Why does everybody have a problem with that?”

“Mac, you’ve been in love with him for years. How do you think it’s gonna feel when he pretends like he reciprocates, and then dumps you on your ass? Because that’s how this is gonna end, and you know it.”

“That’s not —”

“Shh, honey.” She swaggers over to the bar and grabs a beer, holding it out to him. He follows, taking it and plopping onto a stool, planting his elbows on the bar. “I mostly majored in psych. You can’t pull one over on me.”

Mac looks to Charlie, who’s stood up and is surreptitiously cleaning under his thumbnail with a carpentry nail. He shrugs. “Don’t look at me, man. I agree with her.”

“Oh, whatever!” Mac twists the bottle open with his shirt. “She’s a bird!”

“Whoa —” She holds up a hand.

“Even birds can be right sometimes!” Charlie argues. “What about Tweety Bird?”

“Tweety Bird? Charlie —” Mac begins.

“Wait, wasn’t there a sexy lady version of Tweety Bird? Like with a really hot yellow bird body?” Dee nods to herself. “Because I could be down with that…”

“No, that’s Bugs Bunny who has the sexy girl version.” Charlie tilts his head thoughtfully. “Tweety Bird isn’t really a girl or a guy, though, ‘cause he’s a eunuch —”

“Yeah, but he’s a _he,_ you know? So…wait, maybe Tweety was the hot girl version once, or — maybe he was becoming a hot girl — Mac, how does the becoming-a-girl thing work? Could a bird do it?”

Mac shakes his head; this whole conversation is giving him whiplash. _Sexy Tweety Bird? Transitioning birds?_ “Why are you asking me? Just because I’m gay —”

“No one cares that you’re gay, asshole, stop playing that card all the time,” Dee whines, and Charlie nods his agreement. “I’m just asking ‘cause you dated Carmen, and you read that book about it, the transition thing, so you would know…”

“No, Dee, I don’t know if there are trans cartoon birds,” he says, and takes a hefty swig from his Coors Light.

“Well, I think Tweety Bird was probably — what’s that thing?” Charlie turns to Dee. “That, that thing, where you’re not a girl or a guy?”

“Intersex?”

“No, I mean yes, but that doesn’t sound right…”

“Nonbinary.” Mac rests his head in his folded arms. “It’s nonbinary, ‘cause you’re outside the gender binary. Please stop having this conversation.”

“I just think —”

Mac is saved from whatever Dee thinks by Dennis swinging open the door. “Hey, guys, what’s up? Mac, buddy, are you okay?”

“He’s fine, aren’t you,” Charlie says quickly. “Hey, Dennis, can I talk to you for a sec?”

  


“What do you _want,”_ Dennis says, ripping his elbow out of Charlie’s grip, miffed at having been half-dragged into the women’s room.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing to Mac,” Charlie demands flatly.

Dennis furrows his brow. “What — I’m not doing anything to Mac.”

“This whole fake-dating thing? Dennis, Mac is _obsessed_ with you, you have to know that. He was a fucking mess when you left, man, and he’s really insecure about having you back. This might actually ruin your friendship for good, so you better have a damn good reason for it.”

Dennis raises his eyebrows, taken totally aback; Charlie just doesn’t make speeches. Even short, forceful ones. “The reason is easy money,” he says coolly. “And Mac’s a big boy, he can handle his feelings. And I wouldn’t say he’s _obsessed_ with me.” That tastes like a lie; of course Mac is obsessed with him, and it _rocks._ Who doesn’t want someone to think the sun rises out of your ass? “He’s just got a little crush.”

“M-mm. No.” Charlie shakes his head. “It was a little crush when we were nineteen, Den. How long have we known you and Sweet Dee?”

Dennis hesitates. “Um, beginning of high school, right? So…twenty-five years, give or take?”

Charlie nods. “And of that time, how long has Mac been hopelessly attached to you?”

Dennis sets his jaw. He knows what Charlie is doing, and he’s not giving in. “He isn’t hopelessly attached to me,” he says through his teeth. “He just needs to meet a nice guy. Stop using me as an outlet, now that he’s actually _out.”_

“You’re fucking with him, and you know it,” Charlie grinds out. He looks really pissed — the kind of pissed off he reserves for the McPoyles…or inspection days. Dennis can’t remember the last time Charlie was genuinely mad at him. Isn’t sure how to navigate it. And there’s nothing that unnerves him more than being unsure.

“When did you become his keeper, anyway?” 

“I’m not — God, do you actually even know how to have friends?” Charlie shakes his head. “Whatever. You better know what you’re doing, man. Mac deserves better.”

 _Does he?_ Mac, who’s violent and mean and misogynistic? Whose life is a South Philly stereotype with a pride flag draped over it? “Okay, Charlie,” he says, holding out a hand. Placating. “I know what I’m doing. Mac is in good hands.”

“Sure.” Charlie’s glare doesn’t lessen, and Dennis sighs. _This is gonna be a long-ass couple of weeks._

  


“Mac, come on. Talk to me,” Dee cajoles. “It’s just me.”

Mac raises his head from the bar. “I’m not in love with your brother.”

She looks at him with her _I know more than you and I’m smug about it_ look. “Okay, so you’re not in love with him. Fine. Are you denying that you have complicated feelings about him, though?”

“Well…” He swallows. “I mean, of course I do, but they’re not _sexual_ — I just, you live with a guy for so long, y’know…”

Dee nods sagely, even though Mac knows for a fact that she _doesn’t_ know, that she hasn’t lived long-term with anyone since college. Unless you count the period that they shared a bed with Dennis and Old Black Man. Which Mac, as a general rule, tries not to. “Of course,” she coos. “Of course, but faking a romance…well, Mac, that can be straining even on a healthy friendship. Would you call your friendship with Dennis healthy?”

“I mean.” Mac bites his lip and glares down at the bar; someone has carved _by blow 2018_ into the varnish, and he wonders idly what that’s all about. “It’s what it is. We’re — I’m working on it. And what’s more important, Dee, is that I could use a thousand dollars.”

“Is that worth your pride?”

He looks back up at her, up her narrow nose into her earnest, watery-blue eyes. “Oh, fuck yes.”

“I just really think —”

“Don’t think.” Frank emerges from under the bar, and Dee physically jumps back.

“What the _fuck!”_ She screeches.

“What — Frank, what the shit were you hiding under there for?” Mac scoots a bit away from him.

“I was looking for loose change last night, and I musta passed out or fell asleep or something. Deandra, why are you wasting your time with _thinking?_ You’re a bartender, what do you have to think about?”

“I’m a psych major,” Dee begins hotly, “and I’m thinking about what a colossally bad idea it is for Mac and Dennis to fake-date.”

“Whoa,” Frank says, as Dennis and Charlie emerge from the ladies’ room, Charlie looking suspiciously flushed. “Dennis, son, are you a fruit?”

“Hey, quit with the slurs,” Mac says mildly.

“Jesus fuck, Frank, of course not,” Dennis says, his nose scrunched up in bemusion. “Why on earth would you think that?”

“Because Deandra says you’re dating _this_ fruit,” Frank says, jerking his thumb at Mac. “I didn’t raise no fairy, Dennis.”

“You didn’t _raise_ anyone, Frank,” Dennis says in a chilled voice, “but no, I am _fake_ -dating Mac here, for a scheme. We’re gonna pop two grand out of it.”

“I don’t like it.” Frank shakes his head rapidly. “Fake-dating is a gateway drug to real dating.” He turns to Mac. “You agree to this?”

Mac shrugs. “I uh, it’s easy money, y’know?”

Frank shakes his head again. 

“Oh, no one asked your opinion,” Dee says. “Go do something useful — go unpack the boxes I left in the keg room last night.”

Frank mopes off, muttering something about “taking orders from a barmaid.”

Dennis watches him go for a second before he turns to Mac, his chin jutting out. “So…you told everyone,” he says.

Mac feels the heat rise in his face. “This isn’t the sixth grade, Den. I’m not gonna be your _secret boyfriend._ Why wouldn’t I tell Dee and Charlie?”

Dennis nods, and keeps nodding while he talks. “What do you think about all this, Sweet Dee?”

She glares at him. “I think that you and Mac are grown-ups who can handle yourselves,” she says evenly. “And I hope this works out for you.”

Mac watches her turn and leave, pointedly avoiding Dennis’ impassive gaze on his face. _Me, too,_ he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> tumble me, bitches! fourgetregret.tumblr.com


End file.
